


Projections: or The Memoirs of Vince Noir (A Poem in Six Parts)

by acyborglostintimeandspace



Series: Boosh Poems [2]
Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Codependency, Implied Sexual Content, Love Poems, M/M, Prose Poem, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, and it makes me upset, because oh my god, howard likes books, howince, i did this instead of finishing an essay, i mean really angsty, poem, references to Milky Joe, vince has body issues, vince is obsessed with his look
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24209104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acyborglostintimeandspace/pseuds/acyborglostintimeandspace
Summary: Six poems about Vince, his relationship with his appearance, and his unresolved yearnings for Howard to help him find happiness again."I want to learn how to fall in love with myself again."
Relationships: Howard Moon & Vince Noir, Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Series: Boosh Poems [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1747315
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22





	Projections: or The Memoirs of Vince Noir (A Poem in Six Parts)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! I wrote this poem in an angsty haze while listening to my poetry class present their final projects over Zoom. I wanted to explore Vince's dependency on perfecting his look for the sake of impressing others and his feelings of little self-worth in comparison to Howard. While I personally don't believe Howard is more confident than Vince about himself or his appearance, little Vincey Princey is absolutely oblivious. Also, I love the idea that Vince keeps bringing people home and sleeping with them in an attempt to make Howard jealous, but Howard pretends to pay no mind. I referenced Milky Joe in this because, as much as I love series three, I really feel like the series 2 finale was a turning point in Howard and Vince's relationship, one that made Vince cruel and Howard crueler in response. Okay, just read the poem. More notes at the end!

I.

I want to learn how to fall in love with myself again.

i can’t remember the last time i was truly, authentically

myself.

when i didn’t have to plaster on 

a face, a mask

made of thick black drawn-on lines and glossy dewed lips that tempt everyone i meet into the warmth of bedfellowship.

The stranger.

the feeling of guilt that pools in my stomach

every time i pass you in the front room,

watch you

pretend to turn another page of 

whatever book has stolen your attention this week,

whatever 

is more interesting than our conversations,

than me.

Pass

hand in hand, giggling,

watching intently

for your reaction

Yearning,

wanting intently.

Stranger.

they’re all strangers.

i close my eyes when i am with them.

let forbidden memories of you dance behind my eyelids,

memories constructed

from brief hints and teases,

memories that are 

not real.

You.

i don’t feel this strangeness when i’m with

You.

this overwhelming sense that i do not fit in this vessel,

You.

pretending that one more accessory, a new pair of shoes, another layer of fake powdery skin.

a new hairstyle will tempt

You.

The feeling that the strangers cannot see

do not want to see

to see

to see what is behind the presentation

the projection

the dissociation!

You!

I want to learn how to fall in love with-

my body again.

but i know that it does not love me back,

cannot 

love me back.

because it is flesh and bone and muscle

and earth and wit and maturity

and masculinity and confidence 

and

and

and

bristly kisses on rooftops.

It is

I am 

You are.

***

II.

You don’t see me.

…

Is that my fault?

has the projection gone too far? is it

fooling you as well?

I never meant-

Only just that I-

I never thought-

(i never really think)

that we would be here

that the string bonding our slim wrists

pulses that race

adrenaline high even during quiet nights in, 

sitting close

but not close enough

touching

but not touched-

Is that my fault?

i pretend it’s yours.

the little voice in my head tells me it’s yours.

I try to stop them, really I do.

but the path

from my head to my heart to my mouth.

Is shorter than the path connecting your lips to mine.

***

III.

If you are the moon, then i am the tides

rushing towards you in times of need

falling back

i hate that i fall back

that nature

that they

(the strangers)

make me fall back

when they

(the strangers)

(the strangers

The strangers

You!

are not a stranger, Howard!

Stop Pretending!

that we have not known each other for twenty-plus

thirty-plus

years!

So why am I,

Vince

Noir,

Sunshine

Kid

Prince of

Camden

Adored 

Pretending that we are two shooting stars that passed on the street once and never spoke again.

Why Did You Choose A False Friend 

An Inanimate Object

Over Me?

(we could have talked so much on that island

could have let so many things pass between us on that island).

***

IV.

i don’t understand please explain it to me you always used to explain things to me please howard please i used to know myself so damn well back at the zoo you used to tell me things about the world about us about you you you you you it’s always been you howard it’s never been anyone else how could you possibly think it would ever be anyone else

***

V.

So I Retreat.

i hide behind the curtain of hair that falls over

my blue curious eyes,

now more grey than blue

with age.

i hide behind

the shine,

the bright

lights,

the dresses the flow past my shins

or barely graze my thighs

and boots that make me taller

(i’ll never be as tall as you)

and the affected accent.

Because you are the only one who knows the real me.

So I Guess

i’m asking you for help.

you know i’m not good with words

with being sincere

so i guess i’m asking (begging)

can you help me learn how to fall in love with myself again?

***

VI.

I am standing in the doorway.

someone, i don’t know their name,

asleep in my bed

as i watch you from behind,

watch you become engrossed with the words on the page.

my arms are crossed.

i am smirking.

i am wearing a robe of floral silk over my thin, pale body

But 

All I want to do is join you at your side.

my bedfellow stirs.

I turn away and go back to sleep.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I was super inspired by BadBadBucky's "Nothing to Wear" for this. :) Check out my fic recs list on acyborglostintimeandspace.tumblr.com !


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